Soon after helping the Yankees win the 2009 World Series, Rodriguez noted: “A lot of people were very honest with me. I had to look in the mirror. I had to face the music, and I had to to change, and I did that. Kevin Long came to my house in November and said some things that were uncomfortable and I listened, and I changed.”

[Long said:] In order for the team to be together, he had to change and he did. A lot of people tell Alex what he wants to hear. It wasn’t comfortable for me to talk to him like this, but if it ultimately helped us become a better team, that’s what matters.”

Rodriguez changed some little things — made more eye contact with folks he talked to “as opposed to a quick look and his mind already racing to something else,” Long said. He chose the team plane more often, eschewing private jets, and cut down his cell-phone calls at the ballpark. He joined clubhouse conversations, spent time with teammates, tried to be one of the guys.

DL: No, Jesus, Alex! And Matsui hates when you call him that. These guys are your teammates.

A-Rod: Oh, wait, hold on, I think I know who you’re talking about — you mean the guys who always dress like me?

DL: It’s a uniform, Alex. Everybody wears the same uniform. Alex, another thing . . . could you please put down the cell phone for one freaking minute? Do you have to text right now in the middle of our conversation? Who could be that important?

A-Rod: I wish I had my own airport. Boras promised me that . . .

DL: Alex, for the love of all that is good and holy in this world. Please. It’s time for you to change.

A-Rod: But I want to change!

DL: You do?

A-Rod (jumps up from chair): Yes, desperately. I’m going to change right now!

DL: Alex, Alex? Where are you . . . ? (Long follows Rodriguez into his bedroom, where the Yankee third-baseman changes into a new outfit.) Alex — not that kind of change.

A-Rod: How do I look? Too gypsy?

DL: Jesus, Alex.

A-Rod: Too matchy-matchy?

DL: I don’t know, maybe you could make it work. Do you have a pair of boots or something that highlighted your glistening orbs . . . My God! What am I saying??!!

A-Rod: Man, I wish I could tickle myself. Isn’t it sad? People can’t tickle themselves.

DL: Alex, please, for the love of . . . what the . . . is that a centaur over your bed?

A-Rod: Isn’t it amazing?

DL: Uh, yeah, amazing — that’s a word for it. I mean, there might be other words, too, better words, but — Holy God, there’s another! You have TWO paintings of yourself as a centaur? One wasn’t enough?

A-Rod: I’m not sure if two is enough. I’m hiring a guy to paint a new one of me as a unicorn. Except that instead of a horn coming out of my forehead, it would be my . . .

DL: Alex, please, enough already. Just stop. I’m out of here. I’m gone. In fact, forget I was ever here. Just, just . . . keep hitting home runs . . . okay? We don’t care about the rest. It’s baseball. It’s not like it’s a real team sport anyway.

A-Rod: Thanks for this talk, Hank. Or, um, Fred? Or, anyway, it was really helpful. I promise you. I’m going to change. Do you think if I tied this sweater around my waist, like this, it makes me look too bloated?

——-

Centaur image from Deadspin.com, courtesy of Jason Fry, from the Faith and Fear in Flushing blog (see sidebar).

James Preller is a life-long Mets fan who, as a third-grader, went to Shea to watch the 5th Game of the 1969 World Series. He is also the author of the ALA Notable Children’s Book, Six Innings.